Taming the Synaptic Pinball Machine in My Brain

Oct 12, 2025

My Ongoing Love Affair with Lion's Mane

Let me just say this right up front: my brain has never exactly played by the rules. It's like a rogue arcade game stuck on multiball mode—ideas bouncing off the walls, flashing lights everywhere, and not a damn flipper in sight to direct the chaos. Amazing for creativity, absolute hell for focus.

At 54, with a late ADHD diagnosis and a few decades of creative chaos behind me (advertising, game development, raising four kids, and now wrangling a 6-year-old grandson), I’ve pretty much tried everything to tame the mental mayhem: meditation, caffeine, bullet journals, timers, staring blankly at Notion dashboards. Eh. Some helped a little. Most just added more tabs to the mental browser.

Then I found lion's mane. And it didn't fix everything, but it definitely made things. easier. More focus, less brain noise, fewer "what was I doing again?" moments. So yeah, I guess you'd say it's a love story. A kinda nerdy, mushroom-fueled, biohacker-adjacent sort of love story—but a love story nonetheless.

The First Flame: Mind Lab Pro

So flashback about five years ago. I learn about this supplement Mind Lab Pro while bingeing podcasts about brain health (don't ask me which one, they all start to blend together after a while). It's being called a "universal nootropic," which either sounded super sci-fi or super scammy. But I looked at the ingredients list—citicoline, phosphatidylserine, rhodiola, and yep, good ol' lion's mane—and said, "Alright, let's see if this thing can quiet the pinball machine."

It did. Didn't close it off completely (that would probably require surgery or a monastery), but enough so that I could actually sit and focus. Like. focus. For hours. On one thing. Without my brain suddenly determining it was necessary to reorganize the sock drawer or study medieval shipbuilding techniques. Seriously, kind of a miracle.

The lion's mane in it was a key player. Combine that with the rest of the ingredients that help with memory, mood, and stress, and suddenly I wasn't fighting my own brain so hard. I'd take two capsules with my morning coffee, sometimes one more in the afternoon if the fog rolled in. It wasn't exaggerated energy like Red Bull or espresso—more like mental grip. I was still myself, just. less scattered.

What converted me was that Mind Lab Pro was clean. No filler nonsense, no shady stimulants, no crash. And for someone who's a bit into natural wellness (but still eats chips for dinner every so often), it aligned with the way I prefer to treat my brain: with a bit of respect, even though it's a weird little gremlin half the time.

Then Came the Mushrooms-in-Coffee Era

But eventually, however, the routine got old. Not ineffective—dull. Capsules were a drag. I wanted something a little more. ceremonial. Enter: Tribe Organic Mushroom Coffee.

Now, I’ve had some truly terrible mushroom coffee before—tastes like dirt water with a hint of despair. But Tribe? Tribe hit different. Cocoa-forward, just enough caffeine (55mg per serving, so no jitters), and loaded with a crew of functional mushrooms: lion’s mane, cordyceps, reishi, turkey tail, chaga. All dual-extracted, no filler fluff.

I make it with hot water, sometimes over ice, a splash of frothed milk if I'm feeling fancy. It's become the best part of my day that I actually look forward to. The focus is still there (600mg lion's mane is no joke), but now I also get stamina, calm, immune system benefits, and a general "I've got my life together" feeling. Even when I absolutely don't.

To explain it in car terms: if Mind Lab Pro is a good hybrid—unfancy, efficient, quiet—Tribe is the luxury SUV with seat warmers, killer sound system, and adaptive cruise control. Same destination (focus and clarity), but way more fun getting there.

But Wait—What Is Lion's Mane, Anyway?

Okay, quick nerd break. Lion's mane (Hericium erinaceus) is this fuzzy, kind of alien-like fungus that's been used in traditional medicine for hundreds of years. But modern science is catching up, especially when it comes to its impact on the brain.

The magic comes from compounds like hericenones and erinacines, which stimulate something called nerve growth factor (NGF). Basically, it helps neurons grow, connect, and repair. If you’ve got ADHD—or really any kind of executive function weirdness—that’s a big deal.

Now, no, it’s not an FDA-approved ADHD treatment. And no, it’s not going to replace your meds if you’re on them. But there are legit early studies showing promise for memory, attention, and even reduced impulsivity. Some animal studies, some small human trials. But the anecdotes? Flooded with stories just like mine: more clarity, better focus, fewer “squirrel!” moments.

And beyond ADHD, lion's mane is like a Swiss Army knife. Brain fog? Yes. Gut health? Yes—prebiotic fibers feed your good bacteria. Nerve repair? There's potential there too. Immune support, stress reduction, anti-inflammatory properties, and yes, maybe some anti-cancer properties (early days, but interesting stuff). It's like the mushroom equivalent of a multi-tool.

It's Not Magic, But It's Pretty Damn Useful

Here's the thing about nootropics: they're not magic pills. You still have to do the work. Sleep. Exercise. Hydrate. Attempt to not eat Pop-Tarts for lunch three days in a row. (I said attempt.) But the correct nootropic stack? It can certainly give you that extra edge. That piece of mental clarity. That momentary pause before your brain derails.

Mind Lab Pro was my gateway—broad-spectrum, well-researched, clean as a whistle. Tribe Mushroom Coffee is my new jam—works well, tastes good, and easier to fold into daily life. They both get the job done, in their own ways. And both enable me to wrangle my beautifully chaotic, semi-neurodivergent brain without losing the creative spark that makes it all worth it.

ADHD, ADD, whatever name you want to give it—it's not something to be solved. It's a different way of seeing the world. Ideas collide rapidly. Patterns emerge from chaos. Creativity bursts in what feels like superhuman powers. But without some tools? It's exhausting.

Lion’s mane has become one of my best tools. Whether it’s in capsule form or swirling around in a cocoa-scented mug, it helps quiet the noise just enough for me to think straight—and get stuff done. Like write this rambling love letter to a fungus.

So yeah. Taming the synaptic pinball machine? Still a work in progress. But with a little lion’s mane, at least now I’ve got flippers.